by Lavinia Kent
A sudden flicker behind them caught Arthur’s attention. Half hidden behind a pillar stood St. Aubin, his eyes fixed on the two women. Malice and desire competed in his gaze. And greed. Arthur had to suppress an urge to step between Lily and those wicked eyes.
Instead, feigning an ennui he hardly felt, Arthur patted Lily on the shoulder and walked away. He scanned the room for Wulf, but found no sign of him. Arthur debated whether to proceed with his plan alone, but with Lily present, he would have preferred reinforcements. Before he could make a decision, he spotted Wulf leaning against a pillar, opposite St. Aubin.
Arthur started towards them and then halted, stunned. Wulf was staring toward Lily, gazing with a level of malice that radiated through the room. His lips drew back in a sneer, and for a moment Arthur feared for her safety. He maneuvered around the edge of the room and approached Wulf from behind.
Arthur chose his words carefully. “Are you watching St. Aubin or the ladies?”
“Did you know she has a child?”
Arthur did not attempt to hide his confusion. “Yes, of course. She is, after all, my wife.”
Wulf turned towards him. “Not her, the widow. She has a three year old daughter.”
“Lady Burberry?” The focus of Wulf’s glare was the widow. It still made no sense to Arthur, but it was irrelevant to the current matter.
“Never mind the widow. The game’s afoot and I need to know your attention’s focused.”
For the briefest moment, Arthur thought he saw a flash of pain in Wulf’s eyes, but it passed, and Wulf displayed an expression of such fierce concentration, Arthur was sure it was the same face he’d worn in battle.
“Yes, let’s get to it. If I can’t face my own demons this night, let’s vanquish yours. If you proceed as intended, I shall provide your rear guard.”
He glanced toward the pillar where St. Aubin had reclined. Now it was time to trap the fox in the henhouse. The story Wulf had related that morning would provide all the leverage he needed.
But the pillar stood empty.
“Where is he? Did you see where he went?”
Wulf perused the room with hooded eyes. “He cannot have gone far. Perhaps he seeks a perch closer to the fair widow.”
“I hope so. I will not be deprived of him now.”
“Yes. Remember, I, too, have a score to settle with him.”
“Yes, I will not forget. Your story was quite incredible. If only you had confided in me earlier.”
“I should have, but did not like to confess the depths of my fall. How I ever let myself become indebted to such a man . . .”
“I must take some blame in that. I should have told you of St. Aubin when we spoke all those weeks ago.”
“No, there is no blame but mine. You never made me cast the dice when I hadn’t the funds to cover. You never drank and gambled until there was no way out but one. You did not trust a scoundrel who told a tale of woe, of the perfidy of women.”
“No, I did none of those things, yet I might have forewarned you.” Arthur turned and scanned the room again. “In any case, let us find our fox. I do not trust him loose.”
Trying to maintain a show of calm in the face of Arthur’s desertion, Lily led Lady Burberry to a seat, away from the throngs trying to deliver their condolences. She tried to free her thoughts of the spectacle she had just beheld, of Arthur and the dark angel acting like the best of fellows.
Her companion bit back a sob, drawing back Lily’s attention. Lady Burberry pulled a large lace-edged kerchief from her sleeve and dabbed none too daintily under the veil. Lily seated her before the fire and set herself between the tear-choked woman and the rest of the room
She raised her head and met Arthur’s gaze across the room. He saw her glance at his companion and he lifted his brow, but smiled reassuringly. What was she to make of it?
“Is there anybody you’d like me to get?” Lily asked.
Lady Burberry sniffled loudly. “No. I really don’t know anybody here. My husband’s been my one true friend since he retired. We never left the country. He consulted with the Admiralty occasionally, but I stayed behind. He knew my heart was home in the country with our daughter.”
Lily tried to hide her shock at the mention of a child. She glanced up again at the marble bust. Lord Burberry had been a deal older than Lily’s mother. How could he have sired a child with this woman, who seemed little older than herself?
“I wasn’t aware Lord Burberry had become a father.”
“Anna has just turned three. She was a great blessing to us.”
Lily didn’t know how to reply without seeming rude. Anything she might have said could too easily be taken as an aspersion on the disparity in their ages.
She resisted the urge to turn and see if Arthur still spoke to the dark angel. Her sensations, not knowing the substance of their interview, were quite physical. She felt a gnawing at her stomach, like the desperate attack of some vicious rodent.
She forced her attention back to Lady Burberry, who sat staring at her gloves. The widow glanced up at her with candid brown eyes.
“I really should be greeting my guests. I have a position to uphold. I’d hate to let Burberry down, even now.”
“I think you can take another moment or two. Surely nobody would expect you to be at your best now?”
“This is exactly when they do expect you to be at your best,” Lady Burberry sniffed. “In the days after my father died, you would have thought my stepmother was holding court. She never shed a tear that wasn’t planned.”
Lily’s mind was on Arthur. If only he would return to her side and explain what was happening.
“I swear Lady Esther is glaring at me. Obviously, she thinks I am letting the nation down by taking a moment to myself. Look at her whisper to Lady Mallory. Why can’t they just give me peace for a few moments?”
Lily glanced in the direction that Lady Burberry pointed out. She wanted to deny the allegation, but it was hard when the ladies in question were, indeed,s staring at them with such haughty looks. She glanced again toward Arthur and his companion, and then back at Lady Burberry. Although, Lady Burberry seemed quite engaging, Lily had difficulty paying attention.
She tried to put more effort into the conversation. “I thought you didn’t know anybody.”
“Really, I don’t. I did have a brief season before I met John, and I had acquaintance with a few of them then. I am afraid I wasn’t much of a debutante, and they never failed after to let me know my faults.”
Lily peeked back at the ladies in question, not failing to attend her husband’s sudden disappearance, or the swing of the balcony door. “They don’t look very friendly.”
Lady Burberry gave a hoarse laugh. “No, I never heard them described that way.”
“Does it really matter what they think?”
Lily watched Lady Burberry’s black gloved hands twist and fret.
“No, not really, but one does hope to improve with age, and I still feel at times as though I – the whole of my being – were one great social blunder.”
“I am sure that’s not true.”
“At least I have only to survive a couple more days of this. Then I can return to my home, and nobody will comment if I am not seen for the rest of my year of mourning. They’ll actually think it perfect behavior.”
Lily started to rise, meaning to follow her husband, to learn what he was about, but even as she rose he entered again, alone. He cast one look at her, and then turned determinedly towards a woman Lily had not previously noticed. The woman lounged against one wall, surrounded by young bucks, her russet hair glinting in the candlelight. While her gown was a flat black, undistinguishable from every other in the room, the figure beneath it was not. Lily imagined the russet-haired lady, lush and full, had been the object of many a male fantasy. She fought down a wave of unwonted jealousy as the woman leaned forward, showing more bosom than was proper, and kissed Arthur’s cheek. Lily could not hear the words that passed between th
em, but a moment later the woman tilted back her head and a glorious contralto laugh filled the room.
“Only she could act that way at a memorial. Always was a hussy.” Lady Esther and Lady Mallory had evidently progressed closer and were making no effort to keep their own counsel.
“It just goes to show how some people never change. You can tell a lot by the company one chooses.” Lady Esther shot Lady Burberry a pointed glance and glided on.
For the first time all evening Lady Burberry seemed almost amused. “She means me. You’d never guess it now, but Lady Carrington and I were once the best of friends.” Lady Burberry nodded toward the redhead. “She was only Miss Violet Masters then, of course. She was almost as shy as I was.”
Lily glanced at the fiery-haired seductress, who still had one hand resting lightly on Arthur’s chest. After the previous night how could he even look at another woman?
“I find that hard to believe,” Lily uttered, half under her breath.
“She’s had three husbands since then. All of them older than mine. Each died within a year of marrying her. You can imagine the rumors.”
Lily tore her eyes away from the slender fingers straightening her husband’s cravat.
“I can only guess.”
Catching Lily’s look, Lady Burberry spoke. “Don’t worry. He’s too old for her now. The rumor is that she fancies them fresh to London now. Not that she’s actually that old herself. She’s sworn to never marry again.”
As if sensing her thoughts, Arthur turned to look back at Lily. He raised his fingers to his cheek and stared at her as if trying to send a coded message. He started towards her, but then the woman, Lady Carrington, leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. He stopped and then turned decisively towards the door, and left.
He was deserting her. Her first appearance in society, and Arthur was leaving without her. How dare he? He had promised to hold off the dragons at gunpoint. Lily wrapped her fingers around the arms of her chair, attempting to control the sudden burst of anger that had seized her.
She could feel the eyes of Lady Mallory and Lady Esther catch her like a fly in a web. She sat there, immobilized, not knowing how to proceed. Lady Burberry took her hand and started to rub the thin glove. Lily tried to take comfort in the small gesture, but it only reminded her how many times Arthur had chafed her hands, trying to warm them, how he’d always been so comforting at even the worst of times, how he’d been there to offer his broad shoulder for her to lean on.
A deep voice spoke. “Westlake sends his regrets; he has been called away. He has left the carriage for your convenience.” The angel towered above them. She shivered, cowed by his immense and overbearing presence. Lady Burberry grew even paler and looked almost faint. Perhaps they should both leave.
Lily started to snap. She thought to expose his perfidy. How could this man speak to her so indifferently, as if he had never been her assailant? Yet something in his eye stopped her. He just stared, but something in that stare held her tongue. She could not make a scene, not here.
“I will say my regrets now, then,” Lily said, in a hushed voice, trying to hide her trepidation. “I am very worn from the service and will go home to rest. Perhaps you should withdraw to your apartments and do the same.” Lily turned to Lady Burberry and clasped her hand.
“No,” the man said forcefully. “I am sure Lady Burberry knows that her place is here with her guests. It wouldn’t be fitting for her to retire so early.”
Ignoring him, Lily turned back to Lady Burberry. “Are you sure you’ll manage? I really am weary, but I fret to leave you in such company.”
Lady Burberry looked as if she would comment, but before she could speak, the man replied. “Of course, I will look after the lady. How could I fail in such an honorable charge?”
Lily sensed buried undercurrents in his tone. She turned, unsure what action to take. “Will you be well if I leave? I know it is presumptuous of me to imagine that after such short acquaintance . . .”
Lady Burberry cut her off. “You have done more than enough. Your sincere comfort and condolences have been a gift. Besides, Mr. Huntington and I are acquainted.”
Lily wished to ask questions, but it was not the time or place. Under Mr. Huntington’s firm gaze, she finished her farewells and went in search of Lady Smythe-Burke. Where in God’s name was her husband?
Arthur knew he should concentrate on finding St. Aubin, who had once again slipped his leash, but all he could see was Lily’s pale face, her eyes, huge and questioning, when he’d left her to face the crowds alone. He should have thought how she would react to Wulf’s appearance, but he had been waylaid by her candid expression of love. He should have stopped and told her why he left, but that would take time, valuable time. If Lady Carrington’s indications were correct, St. Aubin had plans for the night, plans to turn his fortunes around. Even without knowing what those plans were, Arthur knew he could not let them come to fruition.
He would trap the man, then threaten and cajole him, and yes, bribe him into submission. Arthur would make clear that Lily and her son were both firmly under his protection, and that the penalty for any who sought to injure them would be heavy. Then, a large purse and a berth to the continent should suffice to remove the man. Surely a man of St. Aubin’s appetites should see the promise a newly peaceful France held to a man with ready funds and ducal connections. This should prove an easy choice, rather than tempting the enmity of Westlake.
But the scoundrel had slipped away again. Arthur briefly considered Wulf, and the possibility that the man was playing each side against the other, but rejected the thought. No man held honor dearer than Wulf, and his dejection at having been involved in the attack had been genuine. St. Aubin was simply blessed with the devil’s luck.
But tonight it would end. Arthur would hunt through every hellhole in London if necessary to find his prey.
Returning weary from the reception, Lily paced the parlor with growing agitation, refusing every offer of food or drink. Lady Smythe-Burke had tried to engage her in conversation, her concern obvious, but for once she surrendered in the face of Lily’s monosyllabic answers. After a while, she mounted the great stair alone.
Lily would not put up with the uncertainty a moment longer. As soon as Arthur returned, she would demand an explanation.
“You haven’t eaten. Would you like me to call for a tray?”
Gertrude entered the chamber.
Lily shook her head. With her stomach so tied up in knots, she could not eat. She let Gertrude unpin her hair and closed her eyes as the brush combed through her curls. She wished her tension could be smoothed away as easily.
“Is Simon asleep? I’d like to see him before I retire.”
“I don’t believe so. I thought I heard him not long ago. He sounded most unsettled. Sally must be with him. He never fusses that long with Nanny.”
“Have him fetched, then. It would do me a world of good to hold him in my arms and settle him myself.”
Gertrude put the brush down and moved to the hall.
“I’ll be just a moment.”
“And I would take some tea. Just tea. I find my appetite lacking, but tea is never amiss.”
“Yes, your grace.”
Lily lifted the brush herself and ran it idly through her hair. She tried to gird herself against the anticipated confrontation. She didn’t know how long Arthur would be gone, but she would sit up till dawn if she must. Not another night would pass without settling this uncertainty.
Bloody hell. The man had escaped again. It did not seem possible. Arthur had sent men out to scour and inquire in every dark corner, but to no avail. Wulf had rejoined him after Lily left the reception, pistol at the ready, to ensure St. Aubin’s compliance. But, there was no news of St. Aubin’s whereabouts. It might be hours before he could be found.
Arthur strode up the steps to his house, his mind darting from plan to plan. Wulf followed. Stopping before the door, Arthur inhaled deeply. He might not y
et have found St. Aubin, but he could no longer let Lily wonder about his neglectfulness. At the reception, he had seen the confusion in her expression, the way her eyes darted between him and Wulf, and having heard Wulf’s confession, he could well read Lily’s thoughts. It was time to put her mind at ease. Even if he could not yet ensure her safety, Arthur would lay before her what he could. He would introduce Wulf and lay bare his plans for St. Aubin. Then he would draw Lily aside and let her know that her affection – and trust – were not misplaced.
What was taking Gertrude so long to return? And why had Sally not brought Simon down? With a glance at her tumbled down hair, Lily rose and hurried to the nursery stair. If Simon was asleep, after all, she would just peek in at him, assure her mother’s heart of his wellbeing, and return to wait for Arthur. Just as she reached for the door handle, it was abruptly yanked open from the other side. In her surprise, she stumbled after it, colliding with a solid chest.
“Ah, Sister, ruining my plans yet again.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lily stepped back, tripping on her long skirts. St. Aubin stood outside the door, holding Simon tight in his grasp. He looked far different than she had ever seen him, his hair mussed and his eyes glowing with desperation.
“What?” She could not stop the word from escaping.
“I’d planned another outcome for this evening – one that would leave no doubt who is the rightful heir to Worthington.”
She backed further as he stepped towards her. At first her lips worked without emitting any sound.
“I don’t understand.”
His fingers tightened around Simon. “Worthington should have been mine. I always intended for it to be mine, and babies are so fragile. So many things can happen to them.”
Lily longed to lunge forward, to rip the baby from his arms. Only the knowledge of St. Aubin’s strength held her back. She must wait and find her moment to act.
